Fraternity Snoqualmie correspondence P.O. Box 748 Issaquah, WA 98027 driving directions telephone (425)392 - NUDE (425)392 - 6833

Camp Forestia, Late 1950's and Forestia, 2002. Drawings courtesy Stanislaw and Malgosia Nagi.

Building a road at Forestia, circa 1945

"Interim Pool", 1964. Construction partially completed. (Photo by John Salvin)

"Interim Pool", circa 1970. Copied from a nudist calendar which had widespread circulation. (Original Photo by Howard Johnson).

“Up on the Hill”

The old club house		An old postcard

(intial text was first published in installments in the Forestian)

by Stanislaw and Malgosia Nagi

In response to a request by Forestian co-editor we will be writing a series of articles in which we go back in time to the early days of Fraternity Snoqualmie. We’ll start at the beginning and work our way up to the present, recalling some of the memorable moments in the history of our club. We’ll be relying on memory, old Forestians, and various tales and legends which we’ve heard. Please don’t expect an entirely factual historical record but rather, a collection of semi-historical reminiscences. There are many events that we aren’t sure of and we may occasionally decide to embellish the facts slightly or throw in a few anecdotes.

First, let us tell you a little about ourselves. We’ve been FS members since 1959 and it was at Forestia that we first met. (Yes, couples do, indeed, meet at nudist parks and eventually marry!) Shortly after our marriage in 1962, we moved to Louisiana where we lived for three years. We continued our nudist lifestyle at a park not far from New Orleans and even helped to organize a nudist club in Mississippi. Following our return to Washington, we resumed active participation in nudism at Forestia. Our son, Tomasz, whom some members of FS may remember, was born in 1970. He was an active participant until his late teens and still asks about the park and does not hesitate to tell his friends about it.

Over the years, between the two of us, we’ve served on various major committees, the board, and countless ad hoc committees. We’ve participated in events, activities, and work parties and we’ve even found time to visit some 75 nudist parks, resorts, and nude beaches all over the United States and in several foreign countries.

So, enough about us. Let’s go back to the mid 1930’s when it all got started.

I. “GETTING STARTED”

How did Fraternity Snoqualmie get started? We’ll tell you how. We don’t know! Nudism was in its infancy, having started in Germany early in the 20th century and finally in the United States in 1929. There were no web sites and no nudist publications. Even the local newspapers would not accept ads for anything relating to nudism. Some people had read about the nudist movement and knew that this would be a great lifestyle. Surely, there were others who felt the same way. But without the communications media that are available to us today, how could they get together? It would be a slow, painstaking process. “Word of mouth. Tell your friends. Steer the conversation.” Slowly, by some unexplainable force, the potential nudists were drawn together. And they talked about the revolutionary new lifestyle.

“All right! We’ve talked long enough! Let’s give it a try! But where can we find enough privacy?” At first, there were nude gatherings in private homes or in enclosed back yards. Then there were outings to secluded beaches or clearings in the forests. It soon became obvious that a permanent home would be needed. This meant finding land of their own.

“First, we’ve gotta get organized.” Everything pointed to a non-profit corporation. “What will we call our new corporation? Well, we might name it after the location. Cascade Mountains? Puget Sound? Snoqualmie National Forest? That’s it! How about Snoqualmie Nudist Club? No, we’d better be careful with the word ‘nudist.’ Snoqualmie Club? Nah! How about Snoqualmie Society? Sounds good. But there are advantages to being a fraternal organization rather than a social organization. (Well, at least that’s what some people believed.) All right, how about Snoqualmie Fraternity? Good, but let’s emphasize ‘Fraternity’. Let’s put it first. ‘Fraternity Snoqualmie’. We have a name!”

Then came all the bureaucratic paper work of applying for corporate status. “What are the ‘Purposes of the Association’? Well, we want to say ‘nudism’ without actually saying ‘nudism’.” So the Articles of Association ended up with a lot of barely understandable buzz words and phrases, “…the great social damage done by the ‘body taboo’…, …liberation of the mind from the thraldom of social conventions…” and a lot of other gobbledygook. But the state bought it long with the bylaws. It was 1937 and the neophyte nudists were now incorporated.

We don’t have any details on how the land was acquired, but the original location was in Snohomish County, at the present home of the Lake Bronson Club. It was a beautiful spot, primitive and unspoiled. To stay there for a weekend meant “roughing it”. But, at last, the members had a place of their own where they could shed their clothing and the feelings of guilt and shame which the clothing symbolized. This would be the home of Fraternity Snoqualmie until the mid 1940’s.

II. “A NEW HOME”

To the members of the fledgling nudist club, Fraternity Snoqualmie, their beautiful and serene nudist camp must have seemed a real paradise. Even without floating bridges and interstate highways, it was only a few hour drive from Seattle and vicinity, even less from Everett and places to the north. Abandoning the worries and cares of the workaday world, they could bathe their nude bodies in the warm sunshine while watching the dragon flies skimming over the surface of the lake and hearing the delighted squeals of children as they frolicked in the sparkling water.

But a shadow was beginning to fall on this idyllic scene. Across the oceans, the guns of war could be heard as nation after nation fell to the invading armies. Would America be next? Then came the “Day of Infamy”, December 7, 1941. We were at war.

By some act of providence, our country was spared the massive destruction that many other countries had sustained. But, nonetheless, the war affected, to some degree, the lives of every man, woman, and child. One aspect of the war which was felt by all was rationing – food, clothing, gasoline, … Ah, yes! Gasoline! Car pools and public transportation helped, but after driving to work or to the grocery store and taking the kids to little league practice or to the doctor to patch up some cuts and scrapes, the gasoline allotment was nearly depleted. There wasn’t much left for trips to the nudist camp. Among the F.S. members of the early 1940’s one could hear, “We’ve gotta find something closer to home!” So began the search for a new place where they could enjoy their chosen lifestyle.

(There is another story about why some of the members decided to leave their beautiful sylvan retreat and head south. Some accounts say that there was trouble in paradise – people problems, friction, a split. Perhaps this story is closer to the truth, but we prefer to believe and to tell the gas rationing version.)

We have no details as to how the search for property progressed nor how many sites were considered. But, finally, circa 1944 or 1945, success! The new site was on the side of Tiger Mountain, south of Issaquah. There was a small clearing, surrounded by 40 acres of stately evergreen trees. It had the makings of a beautiful and modern nudist resort, but at the time, the “facilities” were rather “rustic”,…, well, “primitive”,…, well, “ugh!” A few fruit trees and a ramshackle “house” marked the remains of an abandoned goat farm. There was no electricity, no plumbing, and no road. Access to the place was by a mountain trail. The condition of the interior of the building can not be adequately described using polite language. “But it’s ours! We have a new home! What should we call it? Well, it’s surrounded by a forest. How about “Camp Forestia?”

There was so much to be done to make the camp livable. The members knew that, initially, there wouldn’t be much opportunity for recreation. Weekends would be devoted primarily to that great nudist institution, the Work Party.

III. CHAIN SAWS, BULLDOZERS, AND BACKHOES

There was so much to be done before Camp Forestia could truly be called a nudist camp. (Please note that we are using the word “camp”. It wouldn’t be until about the late 1960’s when nudists nationwide would start using the terminology “nudist park”. Either was preferable to the offensive “colony”.) Where was a good place to start? Three areas of needed work were readily obvious. (1) A road suitable for automobile traffic must be built, (2) the old farmhouse must be cleaned and renovated so it can serve as a club house, and (3) a pond must be dug and prepared for use as a swimming facility.

“Who owns a chainsaw? Please bring it up to the camp. And how about bulldozers, backhoes and other earth moving equipment?” Members came up for work parties and they brought their tools – hand tools, power tools, you name it. Tools and machinery were bought, borrowed, and rented. Each phase of the work, as it was completed, made the next phase a little easier. They sawed, they shoveled, they hammered and painted. But they also took time to play. They were nudists and the sun was shining. They were in their element.

Finally, Camp Forestia began to resemble a nudist camp. But creating a recreational facility wasn’t without problems. The clean and newly reconstructed club house still lacked an important feature – electricity. Now, electricity means wire. Wire means copper. But copper was an element vital to the War Effort.

To anyone born after the late 1930’s, the previous sentence may not have much significance. But the “old timers” clearly remember the shortage of materials and commodities which were needed in the manufacture of weapons of war and associated equipment. Rubber, copper, aluminum, other metals, chemicals, the list grows longer, were unavailable or rationed or frightfully expensive. So how did the FS members get their hands on enough wire to bring the good old 110v to the club house? The answer is simple – they didn’t. Well, at least not good, heavy wire fat with insulation.

Somehow, somewhere, we don’t know how or where, they acquired some telephone wire – somewhat larger in diameter than a human hair and sheathed with a thin layer of insulation. “It’s great for low voltage, but will it work on 110? Sure it’ll work if you put in big enough fuses. Oh, the wire will get warm. Very warm? HOT! Hopefully, it won’t start a fire. Is it safe? No, but let’s hope for the best! Will it satisfy the wiring code? No, but maybe nobody will notice” (More about this later).

With a navigable road scraped into the side of Tiger Mountain, cars and other vehicles could come all the way up the hill to the recreation area. “Now we can dig a swimming hole!” Perhaps the term “swimming hole” is somewhat demeaning. It conjures up visions of a slimy, bug infested mud hole. What the members created was much better. The pond was roughly oval in shape, about 50’ x 100’, and varying in depth from a few inches to about 9 feet. There wasn’t a deep “end”, but rather a deep “side”, that is, the depth varied as one proceeded crosswise, but stayed about the same lengthwise. Many loads of sand were dumped into the pond and distributed neatly before filling it with water. To keep down the bug population, fish were released into the water and were replenished every year. A flow of mountain spring water kept the pool clean and sparkling and the facility resembled a small artificial lake. In fact, it was given a name, “Lake Forestia.” This name, however, didn’t stick for very long. The pool wasn’t very warm, but on hot days it provided an opportunity for a refreshing dip.

Finally, the FS members had a recreational facility they could call their own. Here was a rustic but delightful retreat where they could enjoy the wholesome life style which they had chosen for themselves and their families. Of course, there were other jobs, far too numerous to mention in detail, which needed doing. They would be done in time. For years, when one member would meet another member at work or at the grocery store on Monday morning and ask, “Where did you spend the weekend?”, the answer would be, “Up on the Hill.”

IV. “WHERE WAS IT?”

When our members read or hear about the early days at Camp Forestia, they come across such terms as “the old club house, the old swimming pool, and the down road”. It’s obvious that things were a little different then than they are now. Some times it’s hard to visualize, even from photographs, where things were located.

We aren’t exactly certain as to the exact appearance of the camp in the late 1940’s, but, surely, things didn’t change much in ten years and we can give you a fair picture of the camp in the late 1950’s.

To help you get oriented, we have made sketches of the camp as we first saw it in 1959 and of the park as it looks today. (Please allow us a little artistic license and bear in mind that the sketches are not to scale and may contain a few minor errors).

Picture yourself, if you will, standing in the middle of the sunning lawn today, facing uphill. The club house is at 2 o’clock, the community kitchen at 3 o’clock, the swimming and wading pools at 5 and 6 o’clock, the volley ball court at 7 o’clock, and the fire pit at 9 o’clock. Got the picture?

Now go back in time 40+ years, erase today’s images, and form a different mental picture. First of all, imagine far more trees surrounding the sunning lawn. Now look toward 2 o’clock and instead of a club house, see a small snack bar. At 3 o’clock there is no community kitchen but a small building, “Alex’s cabin”. Look over your right shoulder toward 5 and 6 o’clock and instead of a concrete swimming and wading pool, see a dugout pond or artificial lake. Partially blocking your view of the pool is the old club house which was slightly up hill from the present lower rest rooms.

Now look over your left shoulder. You can’t see the new volley ball court nor the concrete court slightly up the hill. Of course, you can’t see them; they weren’t there yet. Neither were the shuffleboards, fire pit, and horseshoe pit. Look directly underfoot. You might be standing in the middle of a road which is no longer there.

There were numerous other differences, not all of which we can remember. You can see some of them by comparing the two sketches. Where the sauna building now stands, there was a building which served as a rather disorganized storage shed. There were no hot tubs and no fence around the pool complex. There was a volley ball court near the old club house. “Rex’s cabin” would experience a few renovations to become the club office and the “Bare Essentials” store.

One of the most significant differences was the configuration of the roads, both within the camp and leading up the hill from the Issaquah-Hobart Road to the camp. If you drive down the road leaving the park, look to your right when you are about a third of the way down. You will see a semblance of a road, forming a Y with the main road. This road still exists but isn’t used except in an emergency. It is the so-called “down road”. Below the Y, the road was two-way as it is now. Above the Y, traffic followed a one-way loop.

There was no gate at the present location. A crude gate, about half way down the access road, was kept closed, but normally not locked. It was locked for a continuous 24-hour period once a year. This was (at least according to old legends) a necessary action to make the road a private road.

So there you have it. The 1959 camp configuration would remain nearly the same for several years, changing slowly as new facilities were constructed.

V. “THOU SHALT NOT…”

When Fraternity Snoqualmie first came into existence, the members faced many challenges, as does any new venture. “What do we need in the way of facilities? How will we recruit new members? How will we pay for everything?” But there was one additional obstacle to overcome; an obstacle faced by every nudist group that has ever existed. “What?! Nudists?! These people are planning to run around naked?! Decent people just don’t do such things!”

Clearly, there were two ways to go. One way was to try to keep the existence of the park a secret, hoping that no one would ever learn just what went on up on the hill. The other way was to be honest and straightforward. “Yes, people of Issaquah and vicinity, we are nudists. We believe in this lifestyle and we want to be your neighbors. We will shop in your stores; with our tax dollars we will support your schools and highways; and we will not attempt to force our views upon you. Please give us an opportunity to show you that we do not pose a threat to the community.” Wisely, the members chose to follow the second path.

But choosing the option of honesty and openness meant that the club would be closely watched. There would have to be a set of rules and regulations consistent with community standards. In fact, the rules would have to go a step further, imposing restrictions over and above those required of other groups. By today’s standards, the early rules might be called “overkill.”

When you read about the old rules, you might be inclined to smile and even to chuckle a little. But please be kind to the memory of the founders of the club and remember them with respect and not with ridicule. They were entering into unfamiliar and uncharted territory. In time, as the presence of nudists in the region gained acceptance, attitudes would moderate and the rules would change.

No set of rules and regulations can be worded in such a way as to cover all possible situations and there is always room for interpretation and enforcement. Depending upon who was on the board, the interpretation could be relatively permissive or very restrictive.

The FS rules as well as the early rules of all nudist groups throughout the nation, reflected society’s emphasis on “family values,” with a clear preference for married couples and families. Compared with most other nudist clubs, FS was quite tolerant toward singles. Nonetheless, there was a quota on single men as well as a dues penalty. In 1959, the quota was 2 single men for every 5 married couples. There was no quota on single women. Annual dues were $30 for a couple, $30 for a single man and $8 for a single woman.

If a member couple went through divorce proceedings, both spouses were dropped from membership. Either or both spouses could reapply for membership after the divorce was final. Fraternity Snoqualmie was a “first name only” club. It was a punishable offense for one member to reveal the last name of another member. Furthermore, it was a rule violation to inquire as to a member’s name, address, telephone number, or occupation. Members could reveal their own last names, but even this was discouraged.

Alcoholic beverages were prohibited at the camp or at any club-sponsored function. No mention was made of illegal substances. Enforcement of this rule varied. Some board members felt that residents should be exempt from this rule. Others went strictly “by the book”; even going so far as to reprimand members for bringing casserole dishes and picnic supplies to the park in used cardboard liquor cases. “Next time, use a tomato soup case!”

Nude dancing was prohibited. It was never clear as to what minimum amount of clothing was required. Also, it wasn’t clear why the rule was really needed. “Dancing is acceptable and so is nudity, but the two together exceed the limits of propriety,…well, you see, nude dancing is naughty but clothing makes it OK. Oh, yes, of course, nudism is almost as acceptable as wearing clothes but not qui…oops! That doesn’t sound right!” This was another rule that the more zealous board members enforced to the letter and beyond. One day a teenage girl had a radio playing in the old clubhouse. Standing alone in the middle of the room, she shuffled her feet and swayed her nude body in time with the dance tune being played. “No nude dancing!” rasped the voice of a board member. “But I’m not dancing WITH anyone!” the girl protested. “It doesn’t matter!” the board member snarled, “dancing is dancing!”

“There shall be no excessive display of affection.” This was a well-intentioned rule, but one with which the strict constructionists had a field day. “This means ‘NO BODILY CONTACT!’” May a husband apply suntan lotion to his wife’s back? “Well, maybe, but not in a suggestive way! And only to the middle of the back!” Is it all right for a newlywed couple to hold hands as they walk across the lawn? “Preferably not, and don’t look lovingly into each others’ eyes!” It’s springtime and two couples haven’t seen each other since last summer. Is a slight embrace acceptable? “Certainly not!”

“There shall be no discussion of politics, religion, or other controversial topics.” What can we talk about? “The weather!” An ad hoc committee was formed to look into the club’s affiliation with an organization with some political overtones. At a general membership meeting, the committee chairman started to present a report on this organization. “No discussion of politics!” a board member snorted. “But this is an official, formal report of a committee,” the committee chairman replied, “that rule pertains to casual discussions on the lawn.” With a stern look, the board member fired back, “The rule doesn’t say that!” The president agreed. “No report!”

But the champion of all rules was one which said, “A man and woman who are not married to each other may not wander out of sight of the main activity area unless accompanied by a third person.” We don’t know if this rule was ever violated. Fortunately, we are running out of space. This rule doesn’t deserve any further comment.

VI. “FUN AND GAMES”

No recreational park is complete without recreational activities. In early day nudist camps all over the country, one sport quickly established itself as the “official” sport of nudism. Yes, volleyball, of course! Here was a sport that did not require elaborate facilities and expensive equipment; a court could be set up quickly, occupying a small area of land; and even people with minimal athletic skill could participate to some degree. But volleyball was not the only sporting activity at nudist camps. A few other activities also required a minimum of area and facilities – horseshoes, badminton, and, with a little concrete work, shuffleboard.

While some nudists were basking in the sun and enjoying the fun and games associated with this newfound lifestyle, others were devoting their time and talents to some serious and very important concerns. If Fraternity Snoqualmie and other clubs were to stay in existence, close attention to organizational and administrative affairs was essential. Although the various clubs were basically autonomous, it was apparent that many problems were common to all clubs and could best be handled on a national or regional level. This meant affiliation. And, of course, there would have to be national and regional meetings attended by delegates from the various clubs. What do we call such meetings? Conventions!

“Let’s go to the convention! While the delegates meet and discuss important matters of business, the rest of us can mingle with nudists from other clubs; establish new friendships; and challenge them to games of volleyball, horseshoes, or badminton!”

Quickly, the nudist conventions became far more than business meetings. There were competitive sports with trophies for the winners. There was a “royal family” consisting of a king, a queen, a prince, and a princess. There were children’s games, a Saturday evening “talent show”, and great food.

Yes, conventions provided a great opportunity for nude recreation, sports competition, and camaraderie, as well as a source of revenue for the host clubs. But the country was divided into five or six regions and each convention was held once a year. This meant that only one convention a year, or two at most, were at nearby camps. “Why wait for a convention? Let’s have a special event at our camp every year. There won’t be any business meetings, just fun and games!” So began a great nudist tradition – interclub events. Each event had a theme – Nudist Olympics, Strawberry Festival, Roundup, Rustic Days. People would drive for hours, keeping their eyes open for an obscure dirt road which led to a camp much like the one at home. They would pitch their tents, park their trailers, or move into rental units for the weekend.

Whatever the “theme” of an event might have been, they followed nearly identical formats – competitions, entertainment, food, and just plain sunbathing. To include more people in the “royal family” competitions, additional categories were created – senior king and queen, junior prince and princess, tot prince and princess, and on at least one occasion, court jester. What did the royal families do? Not much. They’d just stand around looking cute while wearing their crowns and mini robes.

Fraternity Snoqualmie had hosted several regional conventions, but it wasn’t until 1960 that the club jumped on the interclub special event bandwagon. This was a time when the Seattle Seafair and the hydroplane races were at the peak of their popularity. On warm sunny weekends in early August, members stayed away from Camp Forestia, choosing instead to view the races, live or on television. Ideas began to jell in the minds of some of our more enterprising members. “Let’s encourage our members to watch the races on TV at the camp instead of at home. Good idea! Let’s make it a special event!” The plans escalated. “We’ll invite other clubs! Sports competitions! Trophies! A royal family! A talent show! Food! Salmon, of course! What should we call it? Fraternity Snoqualmie Seafair Festival!”

The response was overwhelming. Nudists came to Camp Forestia from all over the Northwest; from California; from Canada; from You-name-it. The motif was nautical. Decorations included nets with glass floats, starfish, conch shells. Even the king and queen had names – King Neptune and Queen Marina. There was no court jester, but there were pirates. While the royal family stood around looking cute, the pirates with their headscarves, toy swords, and fake tattoos stood around looking ferocious. A few people actually watched the races on TV. But most people completely forgot what had precipitated this event in the first place and concentrated on more typical nudist activities.

The salmon was cooked over a bed of red hot, smoky alder coals. There were no briquettes, no propane, and certainly no painted nor treated scrap lumber. It was alder, not fir, not hemlock, not cedar, just real alder from the surrounding forest.

For years, our Seafair Festival was one of the Northwest’s must popular nudist interclub events. But all things pass and, as time went on, the popularity of interclub events began to fade. Then the “gas crisis” of 1974 dealt a nearly fatal blow to such events. After waiting in line for an hour or more to buy a tank of gasoline, nudists would say, “Why should I burn up half a tank of gas to go to another nudist park?” As quickly as it had started, the gas crisis ended. But cross-country nudist travel never fully resumed. There was some concern that “Seafair” was a copyrighted name and the FS Seafair Festival was renamed “Forestia Fest”. The event had lost much of its appeal.

A new concept in nudist events was in the offing – semi public events. Here was an opportunity to introduce the public to nudism by way of clothing-optional sporting activity and music festivals. Forestia Fest and many other interclub events faded away completely. We aren’t saying that things have gotten worse. Perhaps the new concept is a step forward. Time will tell. But the old way has nearly vanished. Gone are the trophies, gone are the royal families, gone are the talent shows. It’s the end of an era.

VII. “COMING INDOORS FOR THE WINTER”

Back in the early years, when the Fraternity Snoqualmie members first moved up on the hill and established Camp Forestia, the facilities could best be described as “primitive”. In time, improvements were made and that adjective no longer applied. In the early 1960’s, a more appropriate term was “rustic”. This was the case in most nudist camps throughout the country.

But new clubs were forming in warmer climes. In such states as California and Florida, nudism was experiencing an unprecedented growth. With close proximity to large population centers and with nearly year-round sunshine, the clubs could expect far more usage of the facilities than could their fellow nudists up north. The owners were willing to risk substantial expenditures of money to construct relatively modern facilities, especially concrete swimming pools with clear, filtered water rather than murky ponds. Members of the new clubs were not referring to their facilities as “nudist camps”, calling them instead “nudist parks”.

Fraternity Snoqualmie members, in their cross-country travels, would visit some of the newer parks. They were impressed with the modern facilities. “Why can’t we have a nice concrete pool?” The answer was quite straightforward; “All it takes is money!”

“Ah, yes! If we had more money we could improve our facilities. Improved facilities would help to bring in new members and to hold onto members who might otherwise decide not to renew. Increased membership would mean increased income – more money. So we’re back at square one, we’ve made a complete loop.”

Here, in this simple closed loop were the most important factors in club growth. Once a club got into the loop, things would “kinda keep on going.” Getting into the loop to begin with was the hard part.

“It looks as if a modern pool is still a few years away. Maybe we should concentrate on things that don’t cost much but which will add to our enjoyment and attract new members. Where can we start?”

“Well, what do the California clubs have that we don’t have? Lots of beautiful sunshine! A long season. Maybe we could extend our season. Of course we can’t control the weather, but we can come indoors. Not just clothed events like Halloween parties, Christmas parties, or potlucks, but indoor nude events -- a swim party. We can’t afford to build an indoor pool, but maybe we could rent one. Will anyone rent a pool to nudists? Let’s give it a try!”

The answer was, “Yes! We have a pool in Woodinville for Saturday night from 10 PM until midnight. It’s not much, but it’s a start. We’ll charge $1.00 per adult. Kids will be free. It’ll give us a winter nude event; It’ll be good public relations; and maybe we’ll even make a few bucks!”

And so, about January of 1960, Fraternity Snoqualmie became the first club in the Northwest and one of the first in the country to take this important step. At first, this was a monthly event but then it became a weekly event. Other clubs followed our example. To this day, the winter swims are very popular and are an important part of the nudist calendar. The location has changed and different clubs now sponsor the swim parties, but Fraternity Snoqualmie was the first.

VIII. “OPEN THE GATE!”

In the summer of 1959, a club in Canada took a bold step – a nudist open house. They placed ads in a local paper and opened their gate. On the day of the event, a long procession of visitors arrived. Some were strictly curiosity seekers, eager for a glimpse of a few nude bodies. But there were also those who sincerely wanted to learn about and to experience this idyllic lifestyle.

The merits of the event were not readily obvious. Although there was little immediate gain in membership, the public relations benefits were significant. Visitors who had never before come face to face with real live nudists could now tell their friends that the people they had met were real human beings with families, homes, and jobs; with hopes, dreams, and aspirations.

Nudists all over the continent were quick to sense the value of an open house. “Why can’t we have an open house too?” Fraternity Snoqualmie was no exception. But convincing the more conservative members was no small task. “What?! An open house?! It will bring gawkers up to the park! Perverts!” Finally, the powers that be were convinced, but not without restrictions.

“The open house will be early in the spring when no one is likely to be nude. That way, the visitors can see the park and meet the people without encountering nude bodies. And we can’t just open the gate to anyone and everyone! No singles!”

Ads were placed in the local newspapers. “NUDIST CAMP. Invitational open house. Married couples and families only. Write to Fraternity Snoqualmie, P.O. Box 985, Seattle, WA.” The ads appeared in the “Personal” sections of the papers. There were numerous inquiries and invitations were mailed out.

The first FS open house was in March, 1960. It was a cool, cloudy day and attendance was light. But a few of the visitors returned later on warm, sunny days and did, indeed, join the club.

The open house became an annual event. The name was changed from “Invitational Open House” to “Visitors’ Days” and the event took place later in the year when sunny weather could be expected. The ads still called for married couples and families, but invitations were mailed to singles who inquired.

A few prominent and very vocal members were convinced that the possibility of encountering nudity would deter many visitors. The ads clearly stated that there would be no nudity until after noon. Everyone remained clothed until noon at which time there was a mass disrobing. Most members objected strenuously to the “clothed until noon” policy and it almost killed the event. Finally, in 1966, the Visitors’ Days Committee, realizing that visitors were not coming simply to see a recreational facilities at a park full of clothed people, abandoned the “clothing mandatory” policy, much to the delight of the members.

Visitors’ Days continued with different variations, eventually coinciding with what the national affiliate group initially called “National Nude Weekend”. The title later became “Nude Recreation Week”. Years later, at Forestia, the event would be replaced totally by two events, “Bare Buns Fun Run, West” and “Nudestock”. More about these events in a future installment.

In the last few installments, we’ve bounced back and forth in time, telling about activities and events that occurred or commenced in the 1960’s. In this installment, we’d like to tell you about one more very important event of the 60’s and then we’ll move on to the next decade. The events described here occurred during the three-year period (summer 62 – summer 65) when we, your authors, were eating shrimp and jambalaya in sunny Louisiana. To write this installment, we had to tap into the memory bank of members who were here at the time. We wish to thank Howard and Margy Johnson and John and Ethel Salvin for their comments and their photographs.

IX. “ALMOST MODERN"

Back in the 50’s and 60’s, people who wrote letters of inquiry to Fraternity Snoqualmie received form letters inviting them to visit, along with a brief description of the lifestyle and the facilities. The letters stated that we had “a most inviting pool”. Well, some people didn’t think it was particularly inviting. Voices of discontent could be heard up on the hill. “We should do something about that pool! I don’t like to feel the mud squishing up between my toes! Do ya know what I saw swimming around in the pool? A snake! I won’t dive into the pool; I like to see what I’m diving into! We need a concrete pool! How can we afford to have a concrete pool?! How can we afford not to?!”

The truth of these statements was undeniable. The old primitive nudist camps with swimming holes and outhouses were fading into oblivion. Some degree of modernization was essential to keep the club alive. But cost was certainly an important consideration. Club members put on their proverbial “thinking caps” and came up with a solution to the dilemma. A modern pool was still several years away, but, in the meantime, maybe the club could afford a swimming facility somewhat less elegant than a modern pool, but a step above the old pond.

If you’ve been reading “Up on the Hill” from the beginning, you know about the old pool, “Lake Forestia”. And, of course, you have seen and used the present-day pool complex (swimming pool/wading pool/spas). But most of our members aren’t aware of the fact the once there was yet another pool. For want of a better name, let’s call it the “Interim Pool”. You might want to dig out your May, 2002 Forestian and refer to the map which accompanied the 4th installment of “Up on the Hill”.

This was the plan: All the work would be done by a work party consisting of volunteer members. Members were invited and encouraged to donate as much as they could of money, tools, equipment, and good old-fashioned “elbow grease”. The following description of the work that was done may contain a few errors here and there, but otherwise, it is reasonably accurate.

The basic steps in the project were: (1) drain the pond, (2) scrape out a thick layer of sand and mud, leaving as smooth a surface as possible, (3) build forms, complete with rebar, for retaining walls and an apron all around the perimeter of the pond, (4) install plumbing and equipment for water circulation and filtration, (5) pour the apron/retaining walls, (6) plaster over the bottom of the pond with concrete, smoothing it with trowels, (7) paint the new pool, (8) fill the pool with water, (9) turn on the pump, (10) ENJOY!

Work began in the early summer of 1964. The first five steps were rather straightforward and were accomplished in a few weeks. Step number six, plastering the bottom, would be the big job. It was a beautiful, sunny weekend and about 50 members showed up for the work party. About 40 (give or take a few) were there to do concrete work. The other 10 (or maybe it was 5 or possibly 15) had the very important job of keeping everyone fed. The concrete workers were assigned to three main tasks. About half a dozen members operated a cement mixer. Another half dozen (or so) worked with trowels, while everyone else had the thankless job of transporting (via buckets) the concrete from the mixer to the pool.

Because of the large amount of hand work required, it wasn’t feasible to buy concrete by the mixer load. Mixing the concrete, about a cubic foot at a time with a portable mixer appeared to be the way to go. Buying concrete mix by the bag would have been convenient but very expensive. So the club bought the materials (cement, sand, and gravel) in bulk. Though less expensive, this was far less convenient. Somewhere, at a fairly level place on the lawn, there were three piles of material which had to be used right away.

The work began. “Squirt some water into the mixer! Throw in a shovel full of this and a shovel full of that! It’s too dry! We need more water! Not too much! It’ll weaken the product! OK, it’s ready to go! Hold out your bucket! Dump it right there! Here I go with my trowel!”

Up on the hill could be heard the rumbling of the cement mixer, the scraping of trowels, and the grunts and groans of the workers. After a few hours of hard labor, a voice could be heard, “I’m getting hungry! When do we eat?!” What would a nudist do without a casserole dish? If there’s a work party, there’s gotta be a potluck. Nobody remembers what foods were served, but you can bet that it hit the spot.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was the pool. To the best of everyone’s recollection, it took two weekends to complete the plastering job. It didn’t happen without incident. “Look at those black clouds! It’s gonna rain! We’ve gotta keep everything dry!” Using a strange assortment of bamboo poles, aluminum poles, plastic pipe, canvas and plastic tarps, as huge tent was hastily constructed. What a sight that must have been. But it did the job! “Oh, yes, there are a few bumps and hollows and a few rough spots. There’s no rebar in the bottom and the thickness varies from an inch or two to more than a foot, but we can live with that!”

After a few more sessions involving much smaller work parties, the pool was complete. This would be our swimming, wading, and floating facility for the next ten years. The pool was almost modern but it lacked many of the features of a truly modern pool. Nonetheless, it was definitely an improvement over the old pond. It was clean and clear so one could see the bottom. There was no mud and there were no snakes. Using filtered, treated, and recirculated water, it wasn’t necessary to supply a continuous flow of cold spring water. The depth varied from a few inches for wading to about nine feet for diving and swimming. There was plenty of room for floating on an air mattress, inner tube, or float toy.

The pool was beautiful! Painted a delicate blue and filled with crystal clear water, it was the envy of every nudist club in the Northwest. From a viewpoint on the lawn near what is now the club house, the pool resembled a giant sapphire jewel as it sparkled and shimmered in the afternoon sunlight.

We were delighted with our pool and other improvements that had been made. Near the end of the 60’s decade, we decided that it was time to retire the name “Camp Forestia”. Proudly, Fraternity Snoqualmie joined other nudist clubs as the owners and operators of a RECREATIONAL PARK! What was once a rustic camp now had a new look and a new name – “Park Forestia”.

X. “CHANGING OUR IMAGE”

Nearly six decades have elapsed since the early day members of Fraternity Snoqualmie first set foot on Tiger Mountain and began the arduous task of transforming the dilapidated remains of an abandoned goat farm into a nude recreational park. At times, progress was slow and it may have appeared that nothing was being accomplished. But, at other times, everything seemed to fall right into place.

If one were to ask, “In what decade did the most significant and dramatic changes take place?” the answer would surely be, “The 1970’s.” This was an era of change throughout the Western world. Our so-called “moral code” was taking on a whole new meaning. The United States Supreme Court, in a landmark decision, had redefined the word “obscene”. New words and phrases had made their way into the American vocabulary: “prurient interests”, “redeeming social value”, and “community standards”. Although the court decision was subject to broad interpretation, it said, in effect, that nudity, per se, was not obscene. This decision opened a door allowing previously unheard of leeway for the display of nude human bodies in movies, magazines, and, to a lesser extent, on television. Increased public acceptance of nudity gave rise to an unprecedented growth in organized nudism. (We touched upon this briefly in “Up on the Hill, VII”).

To remain competitive with new nudist clubs, the old established clubs found it necessary to modernize. Fraternity Snoqualmie had already begun upgrading the recreational facilities (See “Up on the Hill, IX”). Further improvements were still a few years away.

But the modernization required to keep up with changing public attitudes and awareness could not be limited to improvements in park facilities. To gain and maintain public acceptance it was also essential that nudism change its public image. In an increasingly tolerant society, many of our attitudes, rules, and standards appeared not only excessively strict, but also laughable, bordering on the ridiculous (See “Up on the Hill, V”).

A question frequently posed by non-nudists, in one form or another, was “You nudists claim that the wearing of clothing is not necessary for morally acceptable conduct. If this is true, why do you find it necessary to impose such draconian rules? This attitude seems somewhat hypocritical.”

Nudists everywhere began to ponder some important issues with an eye toward the reevaluation of our beliefs and standards of conduct. The question that arose was, “Is it really possible for men, women, and children to live, work, and play together in a clothing-free environment within the framework of the laws, rules, regulations, and moral standards imposed by a clothed society?”

If so, then our rules would need revision and a nudist must never make the statement, “(Some activity) is acceptable if the persons involved are clothed but unacceptable if they are nude.” To make such a statement would be tantamount to admitting that nudism is less acceptable than being clothed. By such admission, nudism could never hope to gain widespread public acceptance.

As a first step in the revision of our rules and policies, an important organizational change was made. A new standing committee, Bylaws and Procedures, was established. The immediate function of the committee was to rewrite the voluminous and cumbersome bylaws document, retaining only those articles and sections which related to the basic organizational structure. Details of implementing the bylaws, including rules and regulations, would appear in a new and more easily amended document, the Procedures Manual.

Of the many rules that had existed for years, the primary ones to be rewritten and incorporated into the Procedures Manual were those that related to bodily contact. Generally, the criterion for keeping or discarding a rule was to keep the rule consistent (within reason) with what was accepted in a clothed environment. “Is it all right for two people to embrace slightly in downtown Seattle or at SeaTac Airport? Yes, it is. Then it’s all right at Park Forestia (use some common sense, there are kids around, you know what’s in good taste and what isn’t). Do we permit clothed dancing? Yes. Well, now you may dance nude too, if you wish. How about applying lotion to another person’s body? Sure, they do it all the time at Green Lake.”

No more would there be forbidden topics of conversation. “We are supposed to be people of vision and foresight, hoping to redirect, in some small measure, the attitudes of society. How can we hope to make a dent if we stifle open discussion?”

The rigid ban on use of last names made us look like some secret society. Of course, it was important that we respect each other’s privacy. The policy was changed, encouraging members to use their full names but honoring requests for greater confidentiality.

The consumption of alcoholic beverages on club grounds was (and, to some extent, remains) a controversial issue. The rule was changed to allow alcohol on the grounds in compliance with state and local laws, with emphasis on MODERATION. Members rejected a proposed rule which would have required drinks to be in coffee cups, or concealed in paper bags or styrofoam can holders.

For years, Fraternity Snoqualmie (and nearly every nudist club in the USA and Canada) imposed a quota on single men. There was fear that without such a quota the clubs would be inundated with single men whom some people saw as potential perverts. As this paranoia subsided, there was incentive to relax the quota. In the new Procedures Manual, the quota was changed from two single men for every five couples to a male to female ratio not to exceed 1.3. The new quota applied to single women as well. (The quota remained in effect until the mid 1980’s when the ratio was increased to 1.5. In 2000, the quota was done away with completely).

It was 1973 when the new Bylaws and Procedures Manual were approved by the membership. This represented a major step forward in the organizational structure of the club. The strict rules which had been deleted were replaced by a simple statement, “Members and guests shall, at all times, act with consideration and respect for others.”

We can not conclude without commenting on the champion of all rules, “A man and woman who are not married to each other may not wander out of sight of the main activity area unless accompanied by a third person.” This rule was deleted in its entirety and not replaced with any similar rule. Amen!

XI. “HOW ARE WE GOING TO PAY FOR IT?”

In the early 1970’s we, the members of Fraternity Snoqualmie, were enjoying our large and beautiful swimming pool which had been constructed only a few years earlier (See “Up on the Hill”, IX). But we had a problem. The ogre of county bureaucracy was breathing down our necks. Although the water was crystal clear and consistently scored high in tests for cleanliness and absence of harmful bacteria, there were problems that had not been anticipated when the pool was built ­ contours of the bottom of the pool, lack of an enclosure and other safety features, you name it. Our pool, our pride and joy, did not conform to county codes. We were given an ultimatum. We had no choice but to replace the pool with one that satisfied all the applicable codes. What could we do? Appoint a committee!

The committee began an intensive study of what it would take to construct a pool that satisfied the codes and also the club’s needs. After a few meetings and a few contacts with contractors and pool equipment suppliers, the committee quickly reached two conclusions: (1) The new pool must be much smaller than the existing pool. No way, even in our wildest dreams, could we afford a regulation pool of comparable size, and (2) The pool should be constructed by an established pool contractor. We lacked the expertise required to do an acceptable job within our financial constraints.

The committee then concentrated on preparing a proposal for presentation to the membership with emphasis on size, location, and, last but by no means least, a financing plan. It didn’t take long to decide on a 25’ x 50’ pool located at what was then one end of the existing pool. Then came the big question, “How are we going to pay for it?” This would be (and still remains) the most expensive single project ever undertaken by Fraternity Snoqualmie. We needed to raise something like $25,000. Bake sales, rummage sales, and raffles wouldn’t cut it. Raising the dues would be risky. The resulting loss of members could mean a loss of revenue rather than a gain. A loan from a bank would do the trick but the interest could be a killer.

The committee wrestled with these concerns. Finally, several weeks and several meetings later a financing plan had jelled. The elements of the financing plan were: (1) Sale of bonds. A limited number of bonds were prepared and sold (primarily to members) to be redeemed with interest in five years, (2) Advance payment of dues (limited in number). Pay five years dues in advance at the current rate. Pay no more for five years, even if there is a dues increase, (3) A one-time assessment of $25 per member, (4) Donations are always welcome. It sounded good to the committee, but would the members approve it?

On a sunny day in the summer of 1974, a special membership meeting was held on the lawn. Nearly a hundred members attended. The pool proposal was presented and discussed. The size and location were approved overwhelmingly. Then paper ballots were distributed for a vote on the financing plan. The committee members held their breath as the ballots were collected. The results: Yes ­ ninety something, No ­ two. WE DID IT!

A contract was awarded and construction began. By mid-summer, 1975, we had a pool! It wasn’t heated; there wasn’t a wading pool nor a hot tub. These would come later. But we had a regulation pool. We were happy. The county was happy. What more could we ask for?!

XII. “WADING, FLOATING, SOAKING, AND COOKING”

By mid-summer, 1975, few vestiges of a rustic nudist camp remained at Park Forestia. Members and visitors eagerly dived into a clean, modern pool which satisfied the demands of the guardians of public health and safety.

But, in the process of modernizing our swimming pool, we had lost a facility which had served the needs of an important element of our membership ­ the kids. The shallow portion of the previous pool, which had provided a great opportunity for wading, splashing, and floating, was gone. But this would soon change. We had anticipated the need for a wading pool and this had been a major factor in deciding where the pool should be located. The beginnings of a foundation for a wading pool already existed, having been excavated many years earlier when the original pool was built.

Constructing a wading pool such as we had envisioned would be a far simpler task than constructing the main swimming pool. Most of the work could be done by our own members. The expertise of a contractor would be needed only for the final finishing and placement of tiles.

The original plan for the wading pool included a fountain located near the curved end of the pool (i.e., the end farthest from the main pool). Plumbing was installed for this purpose. The wading pool was completed and ready for use in the summer of 1976. The fountain was never built. But even without a fountain, we now had an up-to-code facility for all the “kids”, young and old. (Please note that nowhere have we said “kiddies’ pool”. The pool was, and still is, for anyone of any age who wants to simply wade or float.)

Almost every nudist park in the country had a hot tub by the late 1970’s. Our members felt that we needed one too. After all, some people didn’t want to swim, wade, nor float. They just wanted to soak. As with every major project, a committee was formed. Two issues were considered and discussed. (1) Where should the hot tub be located? (2) What kind of hot tub do we want? It was quickly decided that the hot tub should be located near the corner of the pool enclosure. Three hot tub concepts were considered and evaluated: (1) a wooden tub, resembling a huge barrel, (2) a concrete tub, possibly one lined with ceramic tile, and (3) a fiberglass tub. From the standpoints of cost, maintenance, and health concerns, the fiberglass tub appeared to be the best choice.

Our original hot tub (or perhaps more appropriately called a spa) was installed in the late 1970’s. (We don’t remember the exact year but, to the best of our recollection, it was 1978. ) Back in those days, when one bought a fiberglass hot tub, it was just that, an empty tub. Completely assembled spas weren’t available. Installation would require cement work, carpentry, plumbing, wiring, and one other particularly tedious task ­ providing an acceptable support. First, a hole was excavated, somewhat larger than the tub. Then the tub was temporarily supported inside of, but not touching the edges of the hole. Then, using jets of water, fine sand was carefully washed into the space between the tub and the edges of the hole. By the time we were finished, every member of the work party was dripping wet. (And the sun was not shining! Brrr!) The hot tub would provide us with a nice, hot, soaky, bubbly body massage until the turn of the century when the new hot tubs were installed.

About the same time that the pool and hot tub projects were underway, the construction of another major facility was in progress. No modern day nudist park is complete without a sauna. And it’s gotta be the real thing! Build a wood fire, heat up some rocks, splash water on the rocks, and feel the steam rising! We don’t want an electric heater!

Members and visitors cooked their bodies in the sauna for about twenty years. Then, one day a particularly enthusiastic member built a roaring fire. A red glowing chimney and smoke rising from the walls of the building seemed to say “help!” Someone, who knew what to do, yelled, “Don’t open the door!” Without a fresh blast of oxygen, the fire held off long enough for a long spray of water to bring down the temperature. The building was saved, but blackened walls and the smell of charred cedar signaled the beginning of the end of the authentic Scandinavian sauna. Much to the disappointment of the purists, the old wood burner would soon be replaced by an electric unit.

XIII. “A NEW CLUB HOUSE”

The 1970’s were coming to an end. This had been a decade of major change. Park Forestia had come a long way from the rustic nudist camp of the early days. With a filtered swimming pool, a large wading pool, a hot, bubbly spa, and a warm, toasty sauna, we, the members of Fraternity Snoqualmie could truly say that we had a modern nudist facility. One last vestige of the old days remained. Having withstood the ravages of time and years of neglect, an old building with its sagging ceiling and creaky, uneven floor still served as our clubhouse. We needed a larger and more substantial building.

If you still have your May, 2002 Forestian, please look at the “Late 1950’s” map which was part of “Up on the Hill, IV”. Where the club house stands today was a small building which had once been a snack bar. By the mid 1970’s, snack bar service had been discontinued. It was decided that the old snack bar building was no longer needed and that where it stood would be an ideal location for a new club house.

About 1979, a large work party assembled to demolish the old snack bar and in a few days the building was history. Forms were built and concrete was poured for the foundation of a new building roughly twice the size of the old snack bar. Meanwhile, plans for the new building were drawn and evaluated.

The original plan called for a “pavilion” consisting of three walls and a roof rather than a fully enclosed club house. The side facing the sunning lawn and swimming pool was to have been left open, providing a wind break, a shelter from the rain, and a shady area for use on hot summer days. This proposal was not well received by the members. Back to the drawing board.

Proposal Number 2 called for a fully enclosed, two story building. The first floor would be a club house and the second floor would be used as a dormitory where members and visitors could lay down sleeping bags and spend the night. This concept was also not well received.

The third time was the charm. Members reacted very favorably to plans for an enclosed, one story building complete with fireplace.

“Bootleg” construction was no longer an option. The club applied for and received a building permit. Work parties consisted of a few members with construction expertise and a larger number of less skilled workers. Work went fast and in a few weeks the club house was ready for occupancy.

One important task remained ­ a task which would bring a few tears to the eyes of the old timers -- demolition of the old club house. Clearly, we had no other choice but to demolish the building, but for those of us who had been around for more than a few years, the old club house was filled with memories. After a weekend of work, memories were all that remained.

As a final note in this episode, we would like to keep a promise we made almost a year ago. In “Up on the Hill, III” in April, 2002, we told about wiring the old club house for electricity during the World War II years when wiring supplies were scarce. The building was wired with telephone wire, intended for low voltage. There was concern that the wire could get hot and possibly start a fire. We promised to tell you more about this later, so here it is. The fire never started, but…

When the building was finally demolished and the wiring was exposed, lo and behold, it was bare wire! All the insulation had been burned off. What’s the moral of this story? Well, most of us don’t like bureaucracy. We hate to be bothered with building codes, wiring codes, etc. We don’t like the hassle of getting a building or wiring permit. But some control is necessary. We’ll tell you more about another code and permit incident next month.